


I come from downtown, born ready for you

by hockies



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: BDSM, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 16:29:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11993595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockies/pseuds/hockies
Summary: “Talk about what,” Mitch says, “about how apparently you like to tie people up and order them around and never told me? Or how I'm really into getting tied up and made to shut the fuck up and never told you? We're like that fucking Christmas story, but with BDSM.”





	I come from downtown, born ready for you

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. These restraints Auston's got are some sort of magic thing where they never chafe. Cool? Cool.  
> Why is Auston obsessed with Mitch's nipples? Idk, don't @ me.

_________

“You gonna be fucking still, now, Marns?”

Mitch keens up, pushes his hips off the bed just to feel Auston's palms press into the skin of his thighs as he pushes him back into the bed.

“Guess that's a no,” Auston snorts. 

“Fuck,” Mitch pants, hips jumping up to follow as Auston lifts his hands away, “fucking, please.”

“Oh, hush,” Auston rolls his eyes as he rolls off of the bed to rummage in his night stand. Mitch pushes up onto his elbows and watches the muscles shift in Auston's back underneath his t-shirt. He can't believe he's going to have this.

He can't lie and say he's never thought about it. Auston's always been weirdly tight-lipped about his hookups, and Mitch is only human. He's definitely spent more time than is probably okay thinking about Auston's soft hands and stupidly attractive control while getting himself off in the shower.

This bossy thing, this is new to Mitch, though. New and possibly beyond anything Mitch has dared to imagine.

It's been a long week, the first week back after training, and yeah, okay, so Mitch had probably talked Auston's ear off about all of the self-doubt and insecurity that he'd worked so hard to overcome this summer. He hadn't realized he'd taken it that far, until Auston had interrupted his rant about plus-minus with, “okay, are you going to stop fucking thinking about this, or am I going to have to make you?”

Please, Mitch had wanted to say, make me. It turns out Auston knows him well enough that he'd never even had to say it out loud.

It turns out Auston likes control more than Mitch had considered. 

He's suddenly forced to consider it, in detail and vivid high-definition, when Auston finds what he's looking for and turns back to face Mitch. In his hands is a pair of leather wrist restraints.

“Lay back,” Auston says, and yeah, that's definitely an order. Mitch falls backwards faster than he'd like to admit.

Auston climbs up onto the bed, throws a leg over Mitch and straddles him. Mitch likes it, he likes it so, so much when Auston lowers his weight down on top of Mitch's crotch, bracketing his hips and feeling like a solid anchor when Mitch's brain is jumping all over the place.

Auston leans forward and kisses him softly. It's more gentle than anything he's done so far tonight, his eyes steady on Mitch's when he pulls back. 

“You can say no,” Auston tells him, “Anytime. I'll stop if you say to.” Mitch's breath catches a little as his heart does something funny inside his chest.

“Yeah, got it, thanks,” Mitch says hurriedly, thrusting his wrists in front of him so that Auston has to catch them or be smacked in the face. “Put them on me, then, let's go, Matts.”

“You're insufferable,” Auston says, but it sounds fond as he buckles the soft, supple leather around one of Mitch's wrists and then the other.

Auston grabs both of Mitch's bound hands in his and tugs up, up, up until Mitch's hands are stretched above his head. He feels the soft cotton of his shirt pull up over his stomach, and watches Auston notice it, too.

Auston's eyes are dark and open, as he pulls Mitch's arms taut and then something is snapping into place above his head, and Auston is letting him go.

“Fuck, Auston,” Mitch breaths out, craning his neck back to see where Auston has fastened the clip of the leather cuffs to a discreet matching d-ring on the headboard of Auston's bed. 

Because that's a thing that Auston Matthews apparently has.

“Is this, like, a thing you do?” Mitch laughs, unable to stop himself from sounding slightly manic.

He tugs gently and then harder, testing the give of his restraints. There isn't a lot, but the leather is soft on his wrists and he's not feeling any chaffing. 

“Yeah, I guess it's kind of a thing I do,” Auston tells him, flushing as he sits back on Mitch's hips.

His brain is suddenly flooded with images of Auston tying people up. Fucking securing people to his bed, to, to... to what? What comes next? Mitch has an idea, and that's just. He's pretty sure he's been hard for what feels like forever. He knows Auston can feel it, where he's basically sitting directly on top of Mitch's fucking dick.

He should probably take a moment and make sure he remembers how to breathe. Breathing is good. But he's got his gorgeous best friend on top of him, looking like he wants to eat Mitch alive, and yeah, he's basically willing prey.

“How didn't I know about this? This is... how did I miss this?”

“You don't know everything about me,” Auston snaps, but he's smiling, and also still raking his eyes over Mitch's body.

“I can't believe you didn't trust me with this,” Mitch gripes, but it's pretty heatless considering Auston has him handcuffed to his bed. Auston fixes him with a pointed look.

His hands push up under Mitch's t-shirt, fingers playing across the flat of his stomach. He presses the shirt up until Mitch can feel the chill of the room on his nipples. 

Auston brushes his palms over the rosy tips, before moving to slip his fingertips slowly down Mitch's sides.

“Shit,” Mitch breathes, squirming as much as he can with Auston straddling his hips and his hands tied to the headboard.

He realizes, quite suddenly, just how vulnerable a position he's in.

“Auston, shit,” he says, his eyes widening as Auston sweeps his fingertips back up Mitch's sides and then down again. “Shit.”

Auston keeps it up, a slow, steady, teasing sweep up and down his sensitive sides as Mitch squirms under him.

When Auston brushes over his nipples on his next pass, Mitch feels his hands jerk hard in their restraints and he shouts something unintelligible.

Auston's hands still immediately.

“Hey, you good?”

“Fuck,” Mitch pants. Auston's barely touched him and yet he's not sure he's ever been as hard as he is right now. “Fuck, yeah. You asshole, yes. I'm good, keep going.”

Auston laughs lightly, leans down, drops a kiss on Mitch's petulant lips. He's barely back upright before his fingers are back, thumbs sweeping back and forth over the tiny, sensitive buds of Mitch's nipples. 

It's slow and soft, but Auston doesn't let up, and it's only moments before Mitch is making tiny noises in the back of his throat that he's pretty sure he didn't authorize. Auston seems to like it and switches tactics, going from ghosting his thumbs back and forth to slow, steady circles around the tips and then back again.

Mitch pulls against his bonds again, unwillingly almost, not because he's trying to get away. It's just, it's a lot, really. He's never had anyone pay this much attention to his chest before and he didn't know it would feel... 

Mitch grunts and tries to make himself settle back into the bed, but it's so hot, so so so hot, and he pushes his hips up into where Auston's weight is holding them down. The friction feels good on his dick but he can't focus on it, not when Auston's thumbs are expertly, methodically demanding his attention be elsewhere.

'Shhhh,” Auston mutters, “Mitch, let it happen.”

“Auston, fuck, Auston, I can't...” Mitch doesn't even get the sentence out before Auston presses his thumb and forefinger together to pluck at Mitch's nipples lightly and in quick succession.

“Oh, fuck,” Mitch is bucking his hips now, he knows he is, but he can't concentrate on it, he can't, he can't... 

And then Auston is passing his palms down his sides again, up and down, letting him breathe, letting him think.

“God, I hate you so much,” Mitch says. Auston chuckles, dances his fingers into the hollows of Mitch's sides a bit, causing Mitch to shout. He's still grinning when he removes his hands and sits back, watching Mitch, considering.

Mitch isn't sure he makes a very attractive picture right now. His hair feels damp at his temples and the parts of his chest he can see when he looks down are blotchy and red from exertion. His chest is heaving and he's sure his eyes must be a little wild.

The way Auston's watching him, though, you'd think he was the hottest thing on the planet. It's heady, is what it is. Auston's expression has, in the last few moments, somehow slipped from playful to pure want as his eyes rake over Mitch's features.

“Jesus, Mitch,” Auston says quietly, as he takes him in.

Mitch had thought he'd felt vulnerable before, but this. The way Auston is looking at him now splits Mitch open in a way binding his hands hadn't, and oh.

He's been working all summer, all year, to make sure that he's wanted. All he wants it to be needed by someone, by his team.

Auston wants him. Auston is looking at him like there's nothing he wants more.

“Matts,” Mitch chokes out, tears welling up unwillingly, “Auston.”

“I know,” Auston says, “I know, shhh, Mitch, I got you.”

Auston reaches up and pulls his own shirt over his head and lets it fall down to the floor, all the while taking the time to grind down so that Mitch gets some steady friction for the first time tonight. It's a lot, and Mitch lets his eyes slip closed, pumps his hips up to meet Auston's thrusts.

Soon, though, too soon, Auston slows, stops. He smirks when Mitch whines, “come on, man,” and slides back onto Mitch's thighs.

“Come on and what, Marns?” Auston asks, reaching out again to stroke the soft skin of Mitch's belly. Mitch twitches when it tickles, and the jangle of the cuffs grabs Auston's attention.

“Your wrists doing okay?” He asks, brow furrowing as he leans up Mitch's body to run his thumb across where the cuffs meet Mitch's skin.

It surprises Mitch how much of a loss he feels when Auston's weight is momentarily removed.

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” Mitch insists, impatient to have Auston's attention elsewhere, “fuck, man, come on, touch my fucking dick, would you?”

Auston straight up laughs at that, and god, Mitch loves that sound.

Apparently satisfied that Mitch isn't experiencing any chaffing, Auston scoots back down the bed.

Mitch watches him weigh his options and then he's pressing Mitch's legs apart, spreading them so that he can knee up between them.

“Keep your legs spread,” Auston warns, sliding his hands up Mitch's thighs over his grey sweatpants.

“You're fucking sitting between them, man, I don't think it'll be a struggle,” Mitch retorts. He's pretty much done with the existence of a layer of material between his skin and Auston's hands.

“Such a smartass,” Auston says, grinning at the way Mitch's head thumps back against the pillow with a moan when he finally traces the shape of Mitch's cock through his pants. It's light, too light, but god, it's good.

“You're such a brat,” Auston says, softly, continuing to gently run his fingers up and down the clothed outline of Mitch's shaft. “It's going to be so much fun taking you apart.”

Mitch's hips come off the bed but Auston presses them back down with his free hand, giving Mitch's bulge a tight squeeze before he lets go.

“Let's make a deal,” Auston offers, eyes dancing mischievously. “You like to talk, Marns.”

“Yeah,” Mitch agrees. He feels like the floor is about to drop out from under him, but he is 100% certain that Auston will be there to catch him when it does.

“Well, here's my deal. If you can make it until I'm finished with you tonight without saying another word, I'll let you come.”

“Oh fuck, Auston, I...”

“Dude, last time I checked, those all counted as words.” 

Mitch is so hard it's painful. “Fuck, sorry. Fuck. Okay, okay.”

“Okay? We've got a deal?” Auston let his hands settle on Mitch's hips, squeezing gently, reassuringly. Mitch thinks he's saying, you can do this. 

Mitch doesn't say another word. He nods.

“Awesome,” Auston grins, “my turn to talk.”

“You have so much energy, Mitch. I love that about you,” Auston muses, stroking back up Mitch's sides, making him squirm again. “That's why I think it's so much fun to slow you down. To take this all slow and steady, no matter how much you wish I'd go faster.”

Mitch is going to die, probably.

“One day, Mitch. One day, I'm going to tie you down and play with your nipples for hours.” Auston says it softly, like a promise, and Mitch lets out a strangled moan as Auston's fingers slide up into the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Hours, Mitch. Until you're so sensitive that every swipe over the tips of them makes you say my name. Until you come from that, Mitch. Do you think you could come from me playing with your nipples?”

He's pretty sure he should be embarrassed of the whimper he lets out, but he can't even process it, brain full of images as Auston talks, as he strokes the skin underneath Mitch's waistband.

“And you'd let me. You'd let me do anything I wanted to. And god, I'd want to. I'd want to see you flush red all over and beg me to touch you somewhere else, anywhere else. But I wouldn't.”

Auston's fingers curl into the elastic of Mitch's sweats and he drags them down, inch by inch, until Mitch's cock springs free at last. He's hard and leaking, straining towards his stomach.

Mitch helps Auston get his sweatpants and boxer briefs off, lifting up and kicking the offending garments to the foot of the bed when Auston moves from between his legs. He spreads again immediately, because Auston had told him to keep his legs spread.

“Good boy, Mitch,” Auston says, and even if it's a little sarcastic, it makes warmth bloom in Mitch's chest that he did something Auston had asked him to do. 

Auston jumps quickly off the bed and grabs a bottle of lube from the drawer. Setting it next to him on the bed, he settles between Mitch's legs once more, pulling him in so that his thighs bracket Auston's hips.

“You're so pretty, all flushed and hard like this,” Auston tells him, stroking Mitch's thighs so close to where he wishes Auston would put his hands.

Mitch digs his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from commenting. He lets out of a plea in the form of a whine and hope that it'll be enough to get Auston to touch him, stroke him, fucking anything. He's pretty sure he's been hard in Auston's bed for hours now, maybe even days or years, really. Fuck, he needs. He's not sure what he needs. Auston knows what he needs, probably.

Auston grins at the whine Mitch let’s slip past his lips as he bypasses his cock once again to continue running the pads of his fingers along the muscle of Mitch’s inner thighs.

After what feels like forever, Auston finally reaches for the lube on the bed. He uncaps it and pours a generous amount right out of the bottle on to Mitch's cock, which twitches up into the sensation. 

Throwing the bottle back on the bed, Auston finally wraps his fist around Mitch's cock and strokes gently, once, twice, three times.

Mitch keens, pushes up into it, and then whines when Auston lets go again.

“Keep your hips on the bed, Mitch,” he says, sternly. Mitch nods, frantically, and is rewarded by Auston's fist loose around his cock again.

Auston starts up a rhythm, slow but steady, and it takes the tiny bit of Mitch's brain that's still working to keep still when Auston's grip tightens in increments and speeds up.

Mitch doesn't recognize the sounds he makes as Auston brings him to the edge of the world's most spectacular orgasm and then stops, taking his hands off of Mitch's straining cock to pet gently at his sides until he calms down.

Mitch whimpers when Auston starts up slowly again, stroking his fist loosely up and down Mitch's dick, slow but relentless.

“How much is it killing you not to be able to swear at me, Marns?” Auston asks, keeping his slow, slow pace. Mitch doesn't even have it in him to glare. All he can do let out a pathetic little noise and tighten his hands into fists in his cuffs. “You're doing so well. I wonder how many times we can get you to the edge before you break and beg me?”

Auston's fist speeds up, the perfect rhythm, and Mitch wants to come so badly he can practically taste it, but then Auston stops again, chuckling when Mitch lets out a strangled cry.

Mitch squeezes his fists together, screws his eyes shut, and takes back every nice thing he's ever said about Auston Matthews' hands as Auston takes him apart again and again. He brings him to the edge slowly, softly before pulling back, and then does it again, this time getting him there harder and faster. Each time is worse than the time before, each time breaking him and making him want to slip up and beg. He wonders, frantically, if maybe Auston would forgive him for begging, maybe Auston would like that, maybe he'd let him come anyway.

Mitch loses count somewhere around fifteen edges when he feels himself start to drift. His limbs feel looser in increments and it's such a pleasant sensation that he lets it happen.

“There you go, Mitch,” Auston says, reaching up to run a hand through Mitch's hair. He leans up to press a kiss to Mitch's slack mouth and Mitch hums out his pleasure.

Auston's plush, slick mouth on his is everything Mitch needs. He feels loved, wanted, cherished even, which Mitch recognizes somewhere in the back of his fog-addled brain is so damn cheesy he'd be chirped for weeks if he ever said something like that out loud.

Auston pulls away after what seems like too short a time and also forever.

More lube and then his hands are back on Mitch, again coaxing him to the edge without letting him go over. He strokes his hands up and down over Mitch's thighs as Mitch pants through it.

“That's sixteen edges, Marns,” Auston says thoughtfully. “I dunno, should we aim for thirty-four?”

Auston’s hands flutter further up, spreading around Mitch's hips as his thumbs come up to brush into the cut of his adonis lines. He teases the skin there, softly, before he comes to a decision. 

“Nah, not tonight. I think you've probably earned an orgasm by now.”

Mitch's entire body sags with relief as Auston takes him in his hand once again, starts up that slow, relentless rhythm.

“Look at me, Mitch,” Auston's voice is strained, the first sign that maybe this is affecting him too. “I want to see you.”

Mitch forces his eyes open and sees, for the first time, how disheveled Auston actually looks. His eyes lock with Mitch's, wide and bright and honest. Mitch only just manages to stop a “please” from slipping from his lips as Auston speeds up, his gaze never leaving Mitch's.

Every nerve in Mitch's body feels like it's sparking, heat building again in his gut. He hopes hopes hopes that this is it, that this time he'll be allowed to come, but if it isn't, he trusts Auston to get him there eventually, since he'd promised. He'd promised.

Mitch feels his orgasm coming like a wave of panic, like he knows he won't be able to stop this one, Auston's hand on his cock perfect and sure. His thumb slips up over Mitch's cockhead, slippery with lube and precome, again and again, as he strokes faster, dragging him closer and closer to the edge.

“Come on, Mitch, you can do it, come for me,” Auston orders, and Mitch listens and lets himself go. Auston keeps one hand pressing down on his hip and one hand working Mitch over as pleasure explodes through his body and he comes all over his stomach and Auston's fist. Auston milks him through it while his name falls from Mitch's lips, over and over again until his body is wrung out and he's so sensitive that Auston takes pity on him and lets go.

Then Auston's moving, touching him everywhere, reassuring and whispering praise as he moves up and pulls Mitch's wrists down to release them from the cuffs.

As soon as he's free, Mitch clings, pressing his face into Auston's neck and mumbling his name into his skin there. Auston clings just as tightly, tipping them over so that they're comfortable on the bed. He runs his hands up and down Mitch's back and lets him drift pleasantly until he dozes off.

\----

When he wakes up, he feels the pleasant weight of Auston's arm slung over his chest and he opens his eyes to find he's being watched.

“S'creepy to watch someone sleep, Matts,” he says, stretching out and feeling his joints pop satisfyingly.

“Sorry,” Auston stammers, “I just. Sorry.” He's blushing, Mitch notices. It's friggen adorable.

“Dude, don't be weird,” Mitch snorts, sitting up and wincing at the itchy evidence of their elicit activities that's stuck to his skin. Gross.

“We should probably talk about it,” Auston says sitting up.

“Talk about what,” Mitch says, “about how apparently you like to tie people up and order them around and never told me? Or how I'm really into getting tied up and made to shut the fuck up and never told you? We're like that fucking Christmas story, but with BDSM.”

Auston has a face he makes at Mitch, probably about 80% of the time, that says, “dude what the fuck are you talking about?” He's making that face now.

“Mitch, we...”

“Listen, no like honestly, shut the fuck up, I'm allowed to speak now. This was fucking awesome. I want to do it again. Please tell me we can do this again?” Mitch is pretty sure he knows the answer to this, but that doesn't stop his heart from speeding up a little until Auston rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Marns, we can do this again.”

“Thank fucking god. Because I'm pretty sure I owe you an orgasm. You didn't even fucking come. You're going to tell the entire NHL that Mitch Marner is not a considerate lover and my reputation will be ruined. Ruined, Auston.” He's pretty sure he's rambling, now, but he's feeling looser and more relaxed than he's felt in months, and he's in Auston Matthews' bed.

There's a talk they're probably going to need to have at some point and definitely a shower in their more immediate future, but when Auston rolls over him and kisses him quiet, he's pretty sure that's what perfection feels like.

And he's pretty sure this is going to be a great fucking season.


End file.
